All's Fair in Love and War
PROLOGUE
Disclaimer: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.
Although the air was hot and stuffy, the atmosphere in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry couldn't have been more cheerful. With two days until the end of term and the graduation of another year of enthusiastic students, the mood was unmistakably one of general contentment and optimism. Which was why no one seemed to notice the air of distress surrounding Hermione Granger.
Lazy students sat boredly at their desks, most either snoozing with their head in their arms or giggling quietly with their closest neighbor. Hermione sat upright in her seat, body prone and stiff, eyes trained on the dungeon floor. Voices droned on all around her but she tuned them out. She sighed and her body responded with a hearty throb, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat and gaze around the classroom nervously. God, she thought angrily, I'm so wanton. Even as my heart is breaking my body can only think of one thing.
"Miss Granger," called a remarkably controlled voice. The witch started, her eyes wide as she sank back down to Earth, dragged reluctantly out of her reverie by the only person who could affect her.
"Yes, Professor Snape?" she responded meekly. He swooped over to her, his black robe billowing behind him like it had been charmed to do so, and stood over her wordlessly. Hermione cringed as his onyx eyes bore into her body relentlessly. She could feel them on her. His gaze was so intense sometimes that she nearly creamed herself just watching him, even if he wasn't looking at her. And his voice … it was a wonder she'd even passed Potions class this year; at times, his voice alone got her so worked up that she'd hardly had the power to do anything but sit in her seat silently and listen to him speak, his voice reverberating through her body like a secret fantasy.
Hermione's fixation with her Potions professor had been haunting her for the better part of her seventh year. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she thought it might have had something to do with her newly awakening sexual desires. Hermione had always felt a little out of sorts with her sexuality, wondering why she found sex disgusting even as the people she had grown up with began to discover the pleasures of puberty. Even Ginny Weasley, who was a year her junior, had lost her virginity, all before Hermione had even discovered that she could pleasure herself through masturbation.
"There's nothing to it, really," Ginny explained one evening just before the start of term. "Sex doesn't have to be personal unless you want it to be. Just pick a guy and snog him and before long you'll be flat on your back with your legs in the air. Why?" she'd asked suspiciously. "Do you like someone, 'Mione?"
"No," she'd answered truthfully. The boys in her year were immature and single-minded. What appealed to her was intelligence, and it was what they sorely lacked. They only had one thing on their mind and it wasn't books or riveting conversations about the effects of cinchona seeds on newborns.
And that was what led to her infatuation with one Severus Snape. While other students paid just enough attention to be classified as conscious, Hermione listened attentively, hanging on to every word he said and carving them into her memory. The witch valued intelligence and integrity, and it became more and more obvious to her that Professor Snape embodied everything she cherished in a man. She began to notice other things about him, like the silky timbre of his voice and the intensity of his penetrating charcoal gaze. The way he tended to his ingredients and potions … carefully, deliberately and precisely, leaving no room for error or failure. The way he commanded the attention of a room simply by walking into it. He was the alpha male and there was no other option.
Slowly but surely, Professor Severus Snape dominated Hermione's thoughts, just as he so adequately dominated his classroom, his art. Thoughts of respect and admiration merged with thoughts of him driving into her over and over, completely obliterating whatever virginal qualities she had left inside her. Many of her nights were spent moaning and writhing as fantasies of her Potions professor played in her mind. His love wasn't gentle, and she didn't want it to be. She bled and screaming and begged for mercy—
"Just as I expect the rest of these dunderheads to show absolutely no interest in my class whatsoever," he barked sharply, "I would expect you to show at least some. Straighten up and pay attention, Miss Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor." He turned and strode back to the head of class where a piece of chalk was hurriedly scratching out their homework assignment across the blackboard. Hermione signed in relief and slumped down in her seat, trembling visibly. That hadn't been so bad, although his verbal abuse had made her so wet that she could hear it squishing between her thighs every time she moved. God … she had to find a way to end this.
There's only one way to do that, she thought grimly as the bell rang and she began to gather her books. Although the chances of that happening are about as slim as Malfoy being gay.
Awww. Poor Hermione. You can probably guess what's going to happen, though. Please review! Flames are welcome.. in fact, they're encouraged. I want the complete and honest truth, even if it's mean.